


Occupational Nonsense

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Cor goes to Career Day. He may need a drink after this.





	Occupational Nonsense

**Author's Note:**

> I _think_ that this was inspired by a comment I got on an older fic, mentioning Cor being put in a scenario where he had to be happy or something. So, this has been sitting in my drafts for half a year because who knows why. And it finally gets to live!

Even if it _wasn’t_ his job to emphatically say “yes” to every order issued and request asked of him, how could he say “no” to _that face_? If he valued his reputation of not being a push-over – which he thought he did – he would have. No matter if the kid was the crown prince. No matter how big and blue and glittering his eyes got. No matter how much he puffed out his cheeks, pouted his lips, tugged at the end of Cor’s jacket… _Gods be damned._

He was going to Career Day.

And by his own volition.

Cor could already hear the not-even-concealed snickering of his fellow Crownsguard, questioning whether or not the iconic “Immortal” had lost his bite if he could be so easily collared by a _child_. “It was a direct order from the future King of Lucis,” he’d be sure to bark at them… Although it’d be hard to lie when the boy had been nothing but the picture of humility when he shuffled up to Cor with his damning request. Aside from the fact that Noctis was a step beneath Cor’s liege-lord in authority – as well as aside from the apparent fact that Cor had a weakness for giant, watery eyes – there was one other thing that sealed Cor’s fate of stepping into the classroom that morning.

“Puh- _leeeeasse_ Cor!” Noctis had begged. “I’m gonna be the only kid there that didn’t bring a parent a-and I know Dad would go if he _could_ , but he can’t. You’re like my second Dad anyway so, it’ll be just as if I actually brought a real parent!”

Cor reminded himself to have a very… _drunk_ conversation with Regis about that statement later because where the hell did this tiny person get the idea that he was a co-parent? “I’mmm Marshal offthuh Crownsguard, damn you!” he would end up slurring to a calmly nodding, conciliatory King. He regretted those who-even-remembered-how-many-whiskeys now, massaging his temples in the hallway outside of Noctis’s classroom.

It had been a morning from hell to have a hangover. Schools were _so noisy_. The excited laughter of the elementary school kids pealed throughout the halls; teachers shouted over them, calling out names for attendance that – while Cor never heard an answer for – the teachers must have heard because they rattled right on with the list; bells like emergency sirens seemed to go off at random intervals and when they did, the entire building stood at attention and shifted in dynamic, unspoken commands directing children and adults alike as if they were trained soldiers.

Organized chaos. Impressive and oddly unsettling. He didn’t think it was good that the first word he associated with “school” was “military.” But, what the hell did he know about toddler education? Cor could see a question of similar skepticism on the parents’ faces which were assembled around him in the hall. If the frequenters of this establishment had been expecting His Majesty to attend today’s event, the disappointment on their faces could not have _been_ more evident when Noctis had skipped into school with a mere Crownsguard at his tail. That disappointment was only elevated by a small degree when Cor was recognized not just as a “mere” Crownsguard, but as _the_ Crownsguard.

Cor saw a dozen pairs of eyes in the corners of his own, trying and failing to act inconspicuous as they hurled stares his way. Most curious, some awed; none of any consequence to him.  He had been schooled to seek out hostility from a sea of a thousand eyes. Had learned that it was the only attention worth looking out for. Hardly hidden stares over half-hearted smiles were harmless and meant for kings. Affectionate glances were to be checked, then overlooked, barring any unreciprocated advances. Also only meant for kings.

It was odd to catch the wisps of such attention himself. He was accustomed to reviewing stares directed straight towards Regis from his station as the King’s shadow. He was used to going _un_ noticed, not being the center of benign attentions instead of ones purely malevolent… He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

The discomfited feeling didn’t go away as the classroom door opened and he was beckoned inside. If anything, trading the curiosity of a few adults for the bug-eyed stares of a room full of children made the feeling even _worse._

“Noctis, please introduce who you’ve invited to career day,” the teacher instructed, beckoning the prince forward.

The prince had a seat at the front of the room – a conscious seating arrangement by the teacher, Cor was sure. Noctis scurried the short distance to Cor’s side, his shoulders curled in towards his neck. Nerves raced erratic through his small limbs – scuffing his shoe against the floor, curling his fingers over each other, dropping his face so his hair could fall that much further into his eyes. He glanced nervously between his teacher and his classmates, pursing his lips and struggling with the rehearsed introduction.

“U-Um… I’ve brought – I mean, I’ve invited my Uncle Cor for Career Day. He’s the head of my dad’s Crownsguard. So, his job is to keep all the bad guys from hurting people in Insomnia.  And he keeps me and my dad safe. And, umm… that’s all, I think.”

Noctis cast a quivering glance up at Cor, and Cor supposed that was his indication that he present his career to the class now. Arms crossed and legs apart, he barked out to the class, “Questions.”

Most of the room flinched, a wave of fright conjoining the children into one entity for a moment.  He heard a vague huff from the teacher on his right that he was tempted to huff right back at her. Evidently, she was dissatisfied with his brusque address to a bunch of ten-year-olds. He didn’t need the not-so-subtle mouth-breathing to tell him that, _thanks_.

Cor ground his teeth down on a growl, glaring at the wall at the other end of the room. After the silence failed to break with any child-pure bravado, he cut a glance down at Noctis. The boy had his arms wrapped around himself, staring down at the fidgeting toes of his shoes and cheeks blazing red. And while the teacher’s disdain and the children’s terror couldn’t guilt Cor into a gentler attitude, Noctis’s embarrassment could. Just like his sparkling eyes could persuade him into agreeing to this mortifying exhibition in the first place. Cor surveyed the space between Noctis and his peers, snorted out a small sigh, then set his hand on the sword at his hip.

“Anyone know what this is?”

The quiet stayed nervous, but the dozens of bug-eyed looks glued on him shifted. A little blink from that corner, a glance to the side from the other. A sudden, stricken stare from the teacher at her desk that he could hear as loudly as if she was screaming, “ _Don’t you dare_.”

“This type of sword is called a katana,” Cor went on, keeping his gaze deliberately forward, lest the teacher catch the sadistic glint of glee in his eyes from defying her. “Not every member of the Crownsguard uses one – everyone uses whatever weapon their most comfortable with wielding – but I happen to like this one.”

Cor drew the blade a quarter of the way from its sheath, a quick, sharp gesture that threw the teacher back into her chair and snapped the class straight-forward over their desks. The tempered steel glared out at all, keen and bright, even under dull, fluorescent lights.

“A well-tended sword is one of the warrior’s greatest allies in battle. Second only to his comrades. Wielded properly, this katana could cut through even the horns of a behemoth.”

“Has it?” a small voice chirped from the sea of unblinking eyes.

“That and much worse.”

A collective awe sighed through the class, tiny, tinkling voices whispering amongst themselves. A hand snuck up over the heads of the others. Cor gave it a terse nod.

“What’s worse than a behemoth?” the freckly girl asked.

“Daemons, magitek, the big flying birds over the Rock of Ravatogh; once took off the arm of an ancient, undead swordmaster under the bridge to Lestallum…”

The whispers turned to shouts of amazement, desk chairs grinding against the floor as a few students in the back pulled themselves closer to the front. A few hands went up at once, and Cor sheathed the sword, deferring to his default, crossed arms position to nod at each.

“Can you tell us the story of the swordmaster?” one boy asked.

“How old do you have to be to use a sword?” a girl with braces asked.

“Does it have a name? All great swords have a name, right?” a pudgy blond in the back asked.

Cor provided brief, anecdotal answers to each, fitting in as many questions as were asked within the time allotted for his session. He endeavored to make sure no child got less of an answer than another, elaborated only on what he thought was most necessary – safety, discipline, respect for what a weapon of this caliber represented. Between answers, he occasioned a glance at Noctis. As the class-wide interview continued, the prince gradually unwound from his scrunched up coil of nerves, shoulders smoothing down, feet steadying, and chin raising. And when he glanced back at Cor, his eyes were radiating with the innocent dignity of a child’s pride.

Cor had to return to the Citadel when his time was up – a conclusion much bemoaned by Noctis’s classmates. He didn’t see Noctis again until the end of the school day when his valet delivered him. Cor was just passing through the private parking area to a correspondence meeting with the Kingsglaive when he was nearly cleaved in half by the bundle of energy that crashed a hug around his waist.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Noctis squeeled, nuzzling his face against Cor’s stomach. “Everyone said you were the coolest parent that came in!”

Cor waited for that feeling of untold dread to crush down on him at being referred to by the prince as his “parent.” He waited for the urge to grab another one of the dustiest bottles of whiskey wasting away in the royal cellars and rant with it all the way to Regis’s study.

But the mortal distress didn’t return. Instead, Cor felt a blush of warmth spread from beneath the child’s embrace. It soothed through a lifetime’s worth of snap-to reaction time and slowed time down to allow him to revel in it. He felt an odd sensation twitch across his lips, and it was only when Noctis beamed up at him that Cor recognized the feeling as a reflection of Noct’s smile.

Hugs were for kings, not for Crownsguard. Love was for kings, not for Cor. He was used to terrorizing stares and lethal gestures, aimed at his king, but taken on his own sword. He wasn’t used to _this_. He wasn’t used to being the target of a child’s adoration.

“Will you teach me how to be a Crownsguard when I’m bigger?” Noctis asked him, bouncing on his feet and tugging on his sleeve like how he won Cor over in the first place.

“Probably not a full Crownsguard, Your Highness. You’re going to have abilities even better than the Crownsguard does. But I can show you some tricks with the right sword when you’re older.”

Noctis’s face lit up like the dawning sun and he latched onto Cor in another excited hug, babbling thanks and praise all over again. It took some gentle prying – _not_ with the hilt of his sword like he was almost desperate enough to do – and careful commands to finish his homework, until Noctis could be detached from him. He was traded off to Ignis, and the older boy coaxed Noctis off to the study. The prince waved to Cor until he was out of view.

It wasn’t until he heard a soft coo from over his shoulder that Cor realized he’d been standing there, at the foot of the Citadel’s steps, waving back the entire time. He instantly shuttered his expression and skewered the new Kingsglaive recruit that was smirking at him with a glare.

“That’s _adorable_ , Marshal.”

“Get back to work, Ulric.”


End file.
